Revelation 12
by WeepingRian
Summary: The events that occurred when James and Lily Potter died.


**Hope you all liked it! I know this had probably been done a bunch, but I felt like I needed to put in my two cents. Please review and all the snazz! Oh and the title comes from the Bible verse Revelation 12:1-4 which talks about a sign in the sky (metaphorically speaking) of a woman giving birth and a "dragon" waiting for the child so it could kill it.**

**I don't own Harry Potter or the Bible.**

**-WRian**

* * *

Death is easy. Simple. There's a slight flicker of pain before it's all over and everything goes out. It's almost like you never lived, like you were never born. You can't feel or think or move. It's just easy.

James Potter was afraid.

Lily and he had been sitting on the couch silently. They were content at the moment. The world had seemed so far away and for once, they felt safe. He knew his wife was unhappy though. She hated having to stay cooped up and let others fight. Hundreds were dying and she wasn't allowed to help. She had to stay put. But he knew she would do anything to save Harry from that demon, even if that meant sacrificing everything she had wanted.

The sounds of children screaming from outside had died away hours ago when Lily decided to go check on their son.

He couldn't comprehend what happened after that. Even now, as he faced death, he couldn't wrap his head around it. His own friend had betrayed him. Wormtail. James wondered if Sirius had known, but he quickly banished that thought. He couldn't die believing he had been deceived by everyone he loved.

The door had burst open in a flash of blue light and maniacal laughter. There stood Voldemort, the starless night behind him.

James Potter was very afraid. But he was a Gryffindor, nonetheless, and a father first and foremost. He had a family to protect.

"Lily!" he had screamed. "Lily, get Harry and run! He found us! I'll hold him off! Run!"

Every ounce of self-preservation in his body was screaming for him to run. He wanted to, so very, very badly. He wanted to save himself. But he needed to save his Lily. He needed to save his son.

So he stood his ground.

Voldemort glided towards him, as James threw out any spell he could remember at the moment. They seemed to almost bounce of the Dark Lord, as he repeatedly deflected them, all the while laughing. It wouldn't have been so awful if he wasn't laughing.

Soon enough, Voldemort towered over him.

"You don't have to fight me, James. You could join me. I will spare you."

It was tempting, to say the least, but James had known far too many people who were dazzled by the Dark Lord's schemes, and who later died by his hand. Voldemort wasn't really giving him a choice. He wanted to turn him into an animal in the last few moments of his life. James was better than that. When faced with death, he would not become a coward. He would not beg for his life.

"Never." He didn't feel the spell hit his body, just the air as it whistled past him. With the force of a freight train, he was blasted back into the wall, almost being knocked unconscious, but managing to hang on.

Spell after spell hit him, until they become indiscernible from one another. He was pretty sure he was hit with the Cruciatus Curse a few times, but couldn't be sure. The pain had become too constant.

As Voldemort leaned over his mangled body and once again offered him an escape, he knew that no matter the amount of pain, he could never betray the Order like that. He couldn't betray Dumbledore or Sirius or even the Longbottoms, who had strength enough to hold out and say no to this monster, even if they lost their minds in the process.

He couldn't betray Lily.

"Burn in hell, Tom," he managed to gasp out. The Dark Lord's eyes flashed once, before an evil, slithery smile spread across the snake-like face.

"Have you heard of horcruxes, Mr. Potter?"

James Potter had never been so afraid, but this time, it wasn't fear for himself. It was for the world. They were destined to lose. And he was the only one who knew why, but would never be able to tell anyone.

"Avada Kedavra," Voldemort muttered.

The world went out. There were no flashbacks or images of him and Lily by the lake at Hogwarts. He didn't think about his friend's treachery. It was immediate, with no time to think or breath or hate. He might have been a little disappointed in the way he died. He always imagined it would be in some amazing duel, or at least the person would scream out the curse in their rage at him. The way Voldemort had just whispered it was an indicator of how little James had meant. He was just an itch, a small obstacle in the way.

But he would have been glad as well. That way, Lily never had to hear him die. It was for the best.

As it was, James had more important things to worry about in death. Like why in the world heaven looked like Dumbledore's office.

Voldemort straightened upon from the dead man's body, and slowly walked towards his fate.

* * *

Lily Potter had made a very big mistake. She left her wand downstairs.

She had already been at the top of the stairs when Voldemort had entered her home with all the fiery rage of a thousand burning souls. She had barely glimpsed a sight of his black robes when she heard James yell for her to run. The problem, however, was there was absolutely no place to go. Anti-apparition spells had been placed around the home, and they had believed themselves to be safe enough that no emergency portkey had been set up.

Lily did the only thing she could: wait to die.

So while her husband fought against their only true enemy, she tried to comfort her son. She needed him to believe everything was all right; he was the only reason she could keep grounded at the current moment.

"Harry," she has whispered, "Harry, everything will be alright. Daddy loves you. I love you, sweetheart." She knew that he wouldn't be able to comprehend what was happening, but nonetheless, as the words hit his tiny ears, her baby started to cry.

With his tears came silence.

Lily knew what that meant. She knew that James had lost and she was next. She knew that he had come to kill her child. And that gave her strength as the king of darkness strode into the room.

In her heart, she said goodbye to all her friends. She said goodbye to Sirius and Remus. She said goodbye to Harry and Dumbledore. She said goodbye to Severus.

"Kill me. Please. Kill me instead. Don't hurt Harry. Please, kill me," she begged of Voldemort.

He smiled. She shuddered. The world was silent.

And it was all over. She hadn't heard the spell or felt it hit. She was alive one second and then suddenly, it was all blank.

Lily did however wonder why heaven looked like a train.

As Voldemort watched the body of the red-headed girl drop to the floor, a cry alerted him to the presence of his enemy. Before, Harry had been blocked by his mother, but with her out of the way, Voldemort was able to look him straight in the glistening, teary eye.

This insignificant child was destined to defeat him, the lord over darkness, the king of evil? It was almost laughable. That _thing _clearly wasn't anything extraordinary. Yet, in the very back of Voldemort's mind was a twinge of fear. It was relatively small and easily ignored, but if Voldemort wasn't so good at lying to himself, it might've paid off to listen to that human reaction he has so long ago killed.

"You have your mother's eyes," he whispered, while the child continued crying. Pointing his wand at the head of the baby, he muttered the killing curse. In that second, the world exploded. Voldemort felt like his body was tearing apart, inch by inch. His body was being squeezed through a tiny, needle- sized hole, leaving his "soul" on one side and his broken body on another. Everything shattered inside with a tremendous, resounding boom as Voldemort screeched in horror and pain.

Harry continued crying as his vision was clouded with dust. The house slowly began to fall apart around the boy, as the force of the spell colliding with an immovable force destroyed the surrounding area.

As the spell slammed into Harry's head, a scar cut his forehead and a darkly silver substance slithered into Harry's body.

It was quickly over.

* * *

Dumbledore sat in his office, staring at the invisibility cloak. He had many regrets in his old age, but his sister was certainly his worst. But, even though he had lived many years hating himself for being charmed by the wonders of the Hallows, he couldn't help but let that same yearning he had as a child wash over him.

A slight disturbance brought him back to reality. There was no one around, nor any movement in the room. Yet, it was like a warning sounding in his head, alerting him to danger.

And he knew. He knew the Potters were dead.

He couldn't react at first.

Albus sat, staring at that cloak, wondering if he had yet again made another mistake that cost someone their life. If James had his cloak, would they all have lived? He couldn't say, but he was hoping, selfishly, that the answer would've been no. As awful as it was, he couldn't live if he knew that he had caused another person's death. In that way, he differed from Voldemort.

The disbelief that Sirius had betrayed his friend came quickly after. Deep down in his heart, Dumbledore knew he hadn't done it, couldn't do it. But he had long since believed the lies he told himself and thus was able to push aside that doubt. A cool rage come over him. From the outside, he appeared as the calm and collected Dumbledore many had come to love, but inside, he felt a hatred that had been absent from his heart for years. It scared him knowing that he still had that potential. It was times like these were he was reminded just how human he was.

He sent his patronous down to the little hut by the forest. "Hagrid," he had said, "come quickly please."

He had patiently waited while the large man had cried. Dumbledore wanted to comfort him, like he would a child, but he couldn't make himself move. He felt he was unworthy of consoling him; Hagrid was so innocent, and Dumbledore so scarred. How could he ever possibly know what it felt like to be in that pain?

"I know you are grieving right now, Hagrid, but I must ask you for a favor."

* * *

Severus Snape was not a very happy person. He never was. When he was younger, the retched muggle children in his neighborhood would taunt him. They'd bully him about being poor and dirty and his no-good family. Everyone hated him for being different. That sort of thing never leaves a child.

When he was old enough to finally go to Hogwarts and escape from the pain, he was shocked to find nothing had changed. He had thought that being around people like him, people who were magic, that he'd be accepted. Imagine his surprise when he realized that wasn't the case. He was continuously bullied throughout school for the same reasons the muggles had.

For a long time, he was able to hold off the belief that he was better and above all that. He could take it and accept it, but never believe it. It was all because of Lily. She gave him hope and something to strive for. He wanted to be good for her. But when she was gone, he had no reason to hold back anymore. Instead of ignoring the jeering of his fellow students, he allowed it to consume him and fuel his anger. Deep down, in a place he only allowed himself when he couldn't bear the pain anymore, he remembered what it was like to have someone truly care about him. He remembered Lily. And for years, he still held that love for her deep, deep in his heart.

She made him good. And he so desperately wanted to be good.

The Dark Lord had promised him she wouldn't be hurt. He promised he would spare her, for him. As he stared at the broken house, he realized he was a fool for believing all those lies.

Wormtail had told him the attack would be tonight. With a little intimidation, that slimy rat would do anything. It was a miracle no one had discovered he was the spy yet. Only in time would he crack and spill the news. No one would miss him when it happens. He'd be dead within a few days.

Snape had tried to come quickly, but Bellatrix, always in the way, had stopped him. She told him it was the Dark Lord's battle to fight, not his.

"You disgrace our good name, Severus. You're in love with that Potter girl. She's a mudblood and a traitor. How could you? Everything we stand for; everything that's right! You're a disgrace to wizard-kind, _Severus._" Somehow, she always managed to cackle everything she said. Snape always admired her, if only slightly, for that accomplishment. She was like a real witch; the one muggle children are brought up to despise and fear.

"Love is for the weak, Bella. I feel nothing for that… mudblood." He died a little inside as he called her that. He regretted every single day that he had called her that in school. Everything would be different now if he hadn't. Most likely, he wouldn't have to spend his time with the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange. Truthfully, she frightened him slightly, but there was no way he would ever let her know she intimidated him. She'd use it to her advantage and tear him apart piece by piece.

"Then let the Dark Lord work. The Potter's are his."

"Funny, _Bella_. Normally, I'm the one reminding you of that."

She glared and twisted her wiry mouth into a grimace.

It took him hours to finally escape the clutches of Bellatrix, and by that time it was too late. There was nothing he could do.

So he stood outside the house, the night air too still around him, and hated himself. He hated what he had done to her. It was his fault she was dead. And there was no doubt in his mind: she was dead.

He couldn't bring himself to enter the house. He tried. He tried to force himself to take a step inside that gate, but he was afraid of what he would find. He was afraid it would all be too real.

Maybe he really was a coward, like Bellatrix suggested often.

Time ticked by and he knew he had to hurry. Surely, Dumbledore would already know, and would certainly show up soon. If he had any thought to see Lily again, he had to finally move.

With uncertain steps, he walked slowly into hell. Seeing Potter, dead, wasn't hard. There were too many enemies, too many friends he had watched die. Potter made no mark on his mind as he stepped over his body towards the staircase. He knew where to find her. She was always so selfless. He walked quickly towards what Snape assumed was the little Potter boy's room.

The first thing to catch his eye was the baby. The little creature was sitting in his cradle, crying, and reaching his hands towards a shape on the ground. Snape followed the motion down, only briefly wondering how the boy was still living, when he saw her. Her flaming hair spread across the floor, like blood. Her eyes were open and staring and haunted. Her face was pale, shades lighter than even his translucent skin.

She looked… dead. But beautiful, still. Nothing could ever take that from her. Her beauty and strength and general goodness. Something Snape had long since lost. Even in death, he could still see those qualities swimming below the surface.

His cried mixed with that of the boys as he dropped to the ground. Moving towards her on his hands and knees, Snape grabbed the only person he had ever loved and held her tightly. His Lily was gone. He would never hear her laugh again or smile or dance in the rain, like they used to so long ago. He would never get the chance to apologize for all his mistakes.

"Lily, Lily, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," he wept repeatedly. "My Lily, my Lily, my Lily," it became a mantra to him, the only thing in the world that could hold him together.

Hours passed him by, he thought, before he heard a slight sound from behind.

"You should go, Severus. People might not take too kindly to you being here." Dumbledore stood in the doorway, surveying the scene before him. He looked away and pretended not to notice as Snape kissed her on the cheek and left. As he passed the foyer, he noticed her wand laying on a table, utterly useless.

All through school, Lily would be neglectful, leaving her wand everywhere and just as soon, forgetting where she put it. He had thought she had broken that habit, but apparently, in the time of her greatest need, she managed to return to her old ways.

Snape put it under his robes, walked out the door, and apparated into the night.

* * *

Hagrid couldn't understand what had happened. The house was utterly torn apart. He had never seen any magic that was so powerful. For a few moments he wondered if the house could even hold his weight. He wondered if it would collapse under him and kill the only living being in the house: the boy.

Evil magic had worked its way through the house, that much was clear. It reeked of the sickly sweet smell of grim and unicorns and evil. Just pure evil. It was clear in the walls of the house that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wasn't truly gone, though Dumbledore had said as much. Though Hagrid never went against the great wizards word, there was no doubt that he was correct. There was something truly dark lurking in the house.

As he walked tentatively into the house, a mournful cry rang out from upstairs. As quickly as he could, he pushed his way upstairs, trying to get to the little boy crying for his lost parents. The house creaked and groaned under his weight and though he desperately wanted to get Harry out of such a horrid place, Hagrid had no choice but to move cautiously.

It never registered in his mind, as he reached the room, that the bodies of Lily and James weren't there.

Little Harry sat upright in his cradle, whimpering softly. Every so often, a childish scream would break through his lips, but as he took in the massive Hagrid, a smile broke onto his face. While those who didn't know Hagrid would immediately assume he was dangerous and menacing from his incredible height, he truly was a teddy bear. And Harry, in his one-year-old glory, knew this. And seeing as Hagrid was the only familiar face he had seen in hours, Harry couldn't bring himself to be even slightly afraid of the giant.

Hagrid cradled the young boy to his large chest and carefully made his way downstairs. As he moved towards the foyer, the door burst open. In a moment of protective anxiety, Hagrid drew his umbrella, turning so that Harry would be farthest from the door.

But standing in the dim morning light was none other than Sirius Black. Hagrid had always like Sirius, but it was not the time to speculate. He had a job to do, and two people's memory to honor.

Sirius stood still for a moment, a look of crazed disbelief written in his eyes.

"Sirius," Hagrid greeted. Sirius started. He had not seen the hulking man; his mind was no longer working well enough to comprehend his surroundings.

Hagrid was slightly frightened by the man in front of him. He had a crazed air about him, as though he had lost his mind. But as Sirius focused on Hagrid, a look of determination overcame him.

"Give Harry to me, Hagrid," he demanded.

" 'S'm sorry, Sirius. But Dumbeldore told me to take 'Arry straight to 'im. I'm under strict orders."

For a moment, it seemed as though Sirius would argue. They both knew he wanted to. But despite popular belief, Sirius was not a dimwitted fool. He understood that Dumbledore would protect Harry and knew far more about the situation than he did. So with great reluctance, Sirius stepped aside, allowing for Hagrid to brush past him out the door.

In light of the situation, Sirius made a snap decision. Hagrid was almost to the end of the sidewalk when Sirius ran after him.

"Take my bike. Please. Take my bike. I won't need it anymore," for Sirius knew he would be blamed for what happened. He was fully responsible. But he wouldn't let the deaths of his friends occur without revenge. But while he planned on seeking the little rat out, the safety and security of young Harry was his momentary main concern. The rest could wait.

Sirius stood watching as his most prized possession flew away from him, taking away the only person he cared for anymore.

* * *

Peter Pettigrew was sneaky, there were no two ways about it. Though he was a frightened little man who followed the big boys around for personal gain, he knew how to play the game just right to receive what he wanted. And what he wanted most, in the whole wide world, was too live.

He always stuck with James and Sirius and Remus because they could protect him. They made sure no one would ever hurt him, and expected he would do the same for them. As he grew older, however, he realized that it wasn't just words anymore. It wasn't the occasional fight that he needed to be protected from. There were bigger forces out there, greater than himself, and if he wished to remain in good condition, he had to forgo his few morals.

So he did what anyone would in his position: switched sides. He could pin point the exact moment he decided to do what was necessary for survival.

The only problem was, his side lost. Wormtail couldn't believe the Dark Lord, his master, was gone. He chose to the wrong side. And now, Sirius was coming for him.

He had watched for hours, before he believed it safe enough to enter the ruined home. It took a fair amount of time, but soon enough, he was able to find his master's wand, lying under the debris in the upstairs bedroom.

With two wands on his self, he took off to plan Sirius Black's downfall.

* * *

There was a fleeting moment of joy Minerva McGonagall encountered before she realized the full extent of the situation. Lily and James Potter were dead. Her best student and her best trouble maker gone from this world. Two people she very much loved. Dead.

The war had been long and hard, and Minerva was getting old. In later years she denied the truth, but that first couple minutes, she was relieved. She couldn't help herself. But as it sunk in, she remembered everyone who had lost their lives to bring that man down. And it all made her sick.

She was informed of an address. The meaning of it threw her, but nevertheless, she understood that it must be important. So she did what any in her position would do, and investigate. And while the rest of her world was just learning the news, Minerva was arriving in an extremely muggle community. It was quite a shock, though at that point, she was far beyond being surprised.

As the wizarding world began celebrating, Minerva watched the occupants of the address. She learned far too much about them as her time as a stray cat that day. They were not good people.

By the time Dumbledore arrived, Minerva had already guessed at who these people were and why this very address was important. She couldn't hide her disgust at the idea of the boy living with those horrible muggles. But she tried to restrain herself as Dumbledore watched the sky.

* * *

Peter Pettigrew made three very bad decisions. The first was choosing the wrong side. The second was betraying his friends. And the third was getting caught.

Later, he acted as though it was all a part of his plan, but Peter never actually believed Sirius would find him. But he was always doing that. Underestimating his friends loyalty to each other.

Peter was running, trying to lost Sirius, but it was to no avail. He desperately tried to think, though it was always hard for him. In the end, he decided that a populated area would be best. And so, in the middle of muggle London, the two friends came to a halt and faced each other.

"How could you? How could you betray your friend!" Peter yelled at Sirius. Later, it would be said that Peter yelled "friends" and meant Lily and James. All those who claimed that weren't there.

But Peter was making a desperate attempt at placating Sirius by reminding him that they were friends. Sirius, however, was very, very far from feeling any sort of sympathy.

"I trusted you and you killed them," he said slowly. Those who weren't there never knew this. "I'll kill you! Rot in hell, you filthy rat."

"See you there, Padfoot." And with those last words, Peter blew up the street.

Sirius knew this was the end. He could feel the aurors closing in on him. They told everyone they were there, they saw it, but they were far behind Sirius and Peter. They fabricated the evidence and threw away the cell key.

While, Peter followed the rats into the drain, Sirius just stood there waiting. He had nothing left. Azkaban would be a pleasant vacation at this point.

When the aurors finally arrived to the site of the chaos, they searched. They asked where Peter was. And Sirius told them. He's gone.

All they could find was a finger, so they took him away . And Sirius, in like fashion, laughed as his life came to an abrupt and devastating halt.

* * *

Remus Lupin was a mess. Three of his friends were dead, the other in jail. The world was celebrating the end to tyranny and the segregation of wizards, but Lupin didn't fall under that category. The few who knew who he was eradicated him from their shops. No one wanted a werewolf to join in the festivities. He wasn't welcome. Those who had accepted him were all gone.

For a moment he considered ending all of it, but he knew James would've killed him for even thinking such thoughts. He noted the irony.

He sat in Dumbledore's office for a bit, and listened to the explanation of everything, but it all become too much. He abruptly left, and while he felt bad for just dismissing the headmaster in such a rude and inconsiderable way, Lupin couldn't bare it anymore. He listened for as long as he could, and in his heart, he knew Dumbledore realized this.

Soon afterwards came the anger. Everyone was still in the celebratory phase, but Lupin felt betrayed. He was angry at James and Lily, at Sirius and Dumbledore. He hated Voldemort more than every before for destroying everything he had in one night. But he couldn't bring himself to hate Peter. He felt like he should, but as he thought of it, Peter had done nothing. Truly an innocent in all this madness. That little bit of calm kept him from truly falling apart into a world of anger and depression.

He tried drinking away his problems, but that didn't work. It just made them far more prevalent. So, Lupin began once again as a nomad. He moved quietly from town to town, never settling down and never making friends. With time, everyone moved on. The world eventually put the past behind it, and Lupin pretended right with it.


End file.
